on the beach with its tail mutilated. I think he belongs to someone. He’s so friendly.”
The cat’s purr echoes in the tiny space. The receptionist must hear it, because she glances at the cat, her expression softening. “Let me see what I can do.”
After twenty seconds of typing on her computer, she looks back up at me. “Looks like Dr. Choi has a bit of time between appointments. We can squeeze you in right now. Follow me.”
We make our way down the hall to an exam room at the end. A good two dozen framed photos of cats adorn the walls of the room. I’m staring at a photo of kittens fast asleep in a basket of yarn when the receptionist tells me Dr. Choi will be by as soon as he’s done with an appointment. She shuts the door, and I set the cat on the exam table. Its green eyes dart around the room nervously. Chin scratches seem to soothe it though. It relaxes on the table, blinking slowly in appreciation of my pets. The door opens behind me and I turn around. When I see Callum decked out in blue scrubs, my eyes go wide.
“What the . . . You’re Dr. Choi?”
“What? No.”
“Then what . . . what in the world are you doing here?”
The shock of seeing him at a veterinary clinic rivals the shock of seeing him naked days ago. But it’s a different kind of shock. This sterile room is like a reset, taking us out of our usual environment of the beach and food trucks. It’s like we’re characters in a play, and instead of being nasty to each other like normal, we have to pretend to be civil.
He tugs at the hem of his scrub top. “I volunteer here a few mornings a week.”
“As a veterinarian?” I can’t hide my disbelief. If that’s the case, I hope he’s managed a better bedside manner than the lack of people skills he displays at his food truck.
His jaw tense, he sighs, as if he’s willing himself the patience to talk to me. “No. I assist the doctor with pets during exams. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.”
After that stilted exchange, he takes the two steps to stand on the other side of the exam table. When he reaches out to pet the cat, his hard expression softens. I loosen a bit on the inside too. It seems that Callum is definitely a cat person.
“Poor little bloke,” he says, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the cat’s bloody stump of a tail.
“I found him on Baldwin Beach. He just ran up to me.”
Callum turns to the computer and starts typing info into a spreadsheet. “Must not be stray, then, if it’s that friendly. A bit fleshy too. That’s a good sign.”
I chuckle and scratch the cat under its chin, which sends a loud purr echoing through the room.
Callum takes the cat’s weight before typing some more, then fishes a few treats from a nearby jar to give to the cat. I lean down to offer it a few reassuring pets. When I raise my gaze back up, Callum’s eyes dart from my bikini top back to the computer screen. Heat flashes across my chest. I suppose that’s fair. I did spend a solid three minutes staring at his naked body on the beach, after all.
He dispenses another treat. “That’s a good little love,” he croons, stroking the top of the cat’s head.
I’m almost dizzy at the gentle way he speaks. If he had used this tone on me the first day we met, I would have listened to anything he had to say.
The door opens, and in walks a fifty-something man with a thick head of black and gray hair.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this on such short notice,” I say.
Dr. Choi nods. “No problem at all. I have a soft spot for cats, as you can probably tell.” He gestures to the framed photos on the walls. “Looks like this little one’s tail got a bit mangled.”
I explain how the cat wandered up to me on the beach. Dr. Choi nods along while examining the injury.
“Well, this little one is lucky. The tail isn’t severed at all, actually. That must have been an earlier injury that’s been healed for a long while, fortunately. The bleeding is due to this nasty little cut at the end of it.” He points to an inch-long gash under the cat’s fur. “My guess is he probably